C.E. Dorsett's Blog, page 2

Why I am making a Table Top Role Playing Game

In the cool breezy days of November 1985, my dog Red and my imagination were my best friends since all my school friends lived far away. Our trailer was out in the country in Southeast Missouri, behind my great grandmother’s house. Boredom stalked the tall grasses around the pond. I spent hours running around in the woods around our home, playing imaginary games with Red. He was an orangy red shepherd about my height who resembled a beast of legend come alive, and we fought endless hordes of imaginary monsters as we raced through the trees and gullies that surrounded our home.

When I wasn’t being an unholy terror outside, I sat in front of our TV watching Voltron and Robotech reruns, and my newest favorite show, He-man and the Masters of the Universe. It had everything from the magic of the Sorceress and Orko to dragons. Heroes and villains struggled against each other to hold the power of Castle Grayskull. I always loved mythology, and this show was like new legends coming alive on the screen.

I didn’t know how much my life was about to change when my sister Chris came for a visit with my young niece around my ninth birthday. She always showered me with gifts, and this year was no different. Among the books and toys was one that would forever change the course of my life.

Chris bought me my first D&D Book, the Monster Manual.

I sat with it on my lap for a long time, taking in all the creatures on the cover. I recognized the dragon, the unicorn, and the centaur, but I didn’t know what the other three monsters were. After a while, just staring at it, I opened the book and entered a world filled with creatures familiar and bizarre. There was something different about this book. All the creatures had stat blocks above them.

Dungeons and Dragons launched two years before I was born, in 1974. These initial box sets were variations of the war game Chainmail. Advanced Dungeons and Dragons came out in 1977 and allowed players to create their own original characters. Even though the game had been out for 8 years, I had never heard of it.

I was obsessed with the book, and got a copy of Player’s Handbook and the Dungeon Master’s Guide.

When we moved to Maryland, AD&D was the way I made friends. I ran games for the other kids in the neighborhood and played in their games. In time, my experience of Table Top Roleplaying Games (TTRPGs) expanded to many FASA games, from Star Trek to Shadowrun and Earthdawn. We played through all the White Wolf games that came out and even joined in the LARPs (Live Action Roleplaying) of Vampire the Masquerade.

Ever since my sister gave me that copy of the Monster Manual, TTRPGs have been a big part of my life. I still play them with my friends. If she hadn’t given me that book, I don’t know how I would have made friends as an introvert who enjoys being alone. The games sharpened my imagination and honed my creativity. They also empowered me to build new personas and try out new modes of acting to figure out who I am.

Now, I want to create a Shared Imaginary Space (SIS) for all of us to play in.

Our Solemn Hour has been a collaborative project from the beginning. I started building the world when I was in high school and wrote my first novel and a bevy of short stories in the setting. I adapted elements of it into many games I ran for friends.

When I wrote my first published novel, I returned to the setting. In fact, that book was the result of a failed attempt to make my first table top roleplaying game. I met Ryan Dacey at a games panel at an Oakland Wondercon in April 2002. He gave a talk about game creation and I mentioned the game I wanted to make, which he hilariously christened, “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Starship.”

I struggled with game mechanics for about a year, and as I did, I outlined a novel to tell the story. In the end, I had the Legends of the Jade Moon and no game. Over the years I added Shine Like Thunder and Fate’s Harrow to setting, but the dream of making a game never went away.

With the Cypher System Open License, I realized the time had finally come to bring this game into being. I had already run a campaign in the Cypher System in my Barren’s End setting. So I disappeared from the internet and started working on a new game, Our Solemn Hour, which takes place in that space opera setting.

The game has been in development for some time and while it isn’t ready for release yet, I am ready to start talking about the stages of Beta release:

Barrens’ Wanderer: a starship system for Cypher

The first part of the project is a new starship system built from the ground up to make the ships as vital a part of the game as they are in the stories themselves. I’ve worked hard to make this new system compatible with the existing ships in Cypher, The Stars are Fire, Expanded Worlds, and other Cypher worlds, while making them a vibrant, playable element to the world.

As I have developed a more fleshed out downtime and travel system, I realized they would work as a standalone solo game, so that is my planned first release. I will talk about it more as its release approaches.

Fate’s Hunters: An Adventure in the Galactic Underworld

The same thing happened when I was working on the fate system for the game since the twin goddesses of fate play such powerful role in the stories. The fate system with the associated other downtime systems will make an interesting solo game experience for players to enjoy.

I can’t wait to share more of the process and the games with you, as well as the new stories that will accompany them. This is an exciting new adventure. Let’s take it together.

Silent Running

I haven’t talked much about anything lately, not my work, my life, not anything…

Oh, how I wish this was a confessional where I had some grand revelation or some torrid story to share. The truth is, like so many of us, I am fed up and tired.

Gah, this economy…

I am so sick and tired of hearing how good the economy is for the Invester class and the wealthy, because no, it isn’t all that great for the rest of us. Cashflow is barely a trickle, and prospects are hard to come by. Bills keep coming and it feels like there is nothing we can do to dig out.

If it wasn’t something that hadn’t been said to death I would insert a diatribe about late stage capitalism and how the system is rigged, but the only people who can’t see that by now are willfully ignorant.

Everything we do feels so small…

Here I am working on my stories and games and there is a genocide happening in Gaza, fascism is on the rise in the United States, and the ruling class is doing everything in its power to start a war with Iran. Again, I could keep going and the list could go on forever.

I’ve written before about struggling with these feelings, and I am not really struggling with them at the moment. I do feel guilty offering people escapism in these times, but we all need a break from the horrors of the world.

Let’s all shout

More than anything, what we need right now is to stand up and shout. Yes, shout in protest to all the injustices in the world. Shout at the systems that are holding us all back. More than anything, we need to shout loud enough to shake the world and let it know we are still here.

Let’s scream out from the depths of our souls so loud we shake the heavens and remind the gods we are still here.

I know this post is a mess, but I think we are all bit of a mess right now and I am tired of waiting until some fictional point in the future when I have everything together enough send a post out into the world.

This is my shout into the universe that I am still here have a lot that I need and want to say. Here is so a return to posting and getting on with the work.

Let’s shout together until we get to where we want and need to be.

When the Business and the Creative Clash

If it's not one thing, it's another. So, I finally decided to start podcasting again. I recorded the first episode of "The Nonbinary Writer," and YouTube has now made it easier for us to upload our podcasts on their platform. We can simply put in the RSS, and off it goes into the wild blue yonder.

There it goes. It automatically makes the video for me, which is great because I don't have the time or patience to do that. So, instead of writing this week, since I started recording podcast episodes again, I find myself creating thumbnails for popular episodes. It's something I had never intended to do but thought might actually help me in the algorithm, because, to my surprise, people are actually listening to the podcast on YouTube.

So, if you're new to listening to me and you're on YouTube, hi! How are you? And if you're listening to me through any other platforms, hi, hello. My name is Charlie, and I am a nonbinary writer. I really wanted to be writing this week, but one of the most important things that I think we have to understand as writers is that if we're not focusing on getting the word out, on building a platform, and finding a way for people to know that we exist, then the writing doesn't matter all that much.

While I love to believe that good writing wins out, that all you have to do is write something great and the entire world will go, "Wow, this is amazing!" – yeah, that's not really how any of this works. What we actually have to do is buckle down and get the word out, build a platform where we can tell people that we exist, build an audience, and constantly do things to make people realize that we exist.

Because that's the real work of being a writer. It's a double-edged sword, especially for LGBTQ writers like myself. The more I let people know that I exist, the more likely it is that people who don't like the fact that I exist are going to find me and tell me how much they don't like the fact that I exist.

Yeah, that's not happy-making. That's not really what I want to be doing, and it's not really a good place to be in. So, I find myself in this endless struggle between doing what I know I need to do for marketing and putting stories out and basic self-preservation. I don't like it when I get attacked simply for existing.

On the other hand, I really do like it when people read my work and get really excited about it. So, finding that middle ground, that place where I can tell people that my stuff exists, and they can go read it on Ream! Writing new material has to be balanced with this endless struggle to go out and tell people that, hey, by the way, I'm over here, I do things.

And it's been really interesting to see what stories catch on, especially with the podcast reaching this new audience. As far as this podcast goes, the episode that is doing the best on YouTube right now is the obligatory nonbinary rant. It was the first thing I actually recorded for the podcast, though it's not technically the first episode.

It's honest and from the heart, and it goes to show the one thing that I've always known about marketing: being angry and yelling and shouting is a good way to get attention, but it's not really the kind of attention that I want to get. It's not really the kind of work that I want to be doing. So, I don't do it that much.

I try really hard not to be that person. I think there's enough negativity out in the world.

I don't want to be a cause of more negativity. I don't want to just feed that pain that we feel. I want to make a change. I want it to be better. And that's the struggle that I find myself trapped behind. When weeks like this happen and here I am, just trying to play catch up. Getting all of my ducks in a row so that hopefully the podcast will do well on this new platform and I can build it up to monetization because, while it's gross and disgusting and I hate thinking about it, much less talking about it, if I don't make money off of what I'm doing, then I can't really afford to do it.

So, I have to think about those things. I have to ask myself, what's the best thing I can do for the business right now? What's the best thing that I can do to make this grow? And whether I was right or wrong, making thumbnails for the episodes felt like the right thing to do. And now, I'm sitting here wishing I was writing, wishing I had written a lot more this week.

And not having done any of that.

I want to tell these stories. I want to be doing World Ember. But I haven't really done anything for World Ember this year. I haven't really written much this month at all.

And that makes me sad. And I hate to just say it flat out like that; I should be more poetic about it, but I've been doing the business things. I've been setting up the Ream account, I've been working on a commissioned project that I'm doing that looks like I will be getting paid for, which, considering it started off as a volunteer project, kind of blows my mind.

And I've got the podcast to do again.

All the while, in the back of my mind, I see spaceships and wizards and magic and mysteries and stories that I want to be telling.

Many times in the past, I've buckled down and tried to work on getting a schedule. Which doesn't always work out. I have a lot of physical pains and, well, chronic pain to be more general and specific.

So, I don't always get to do the things that I want to do when I want to do them. But I think I really need to start setting aside morning time for writing. Get my pages in. I need to get my pages in. So hopefully next week I'll get to start with that, and I'll probably try to get back into the habit of going to the Dawdling Writer's write-ins on YouTube, and maybe even doing some of my own, because I miss hanging out with y'all while writing.

Yeah, getting the work done is important. Even when it's the boring, business-y work part. But if I'm not writing, I'm not writing. And so that's where I need to put my focus.

A New Introduction of sorts

Hello and welcome to the Nonbinary Writer. This is a reintroduction of sorts because I've been in a dark place for a while, and I'm not really going to go into that a lot here. If you want to know more, you can check out my other podcast, Project: Shadow, where I did an episode titled, Reawakening to Joy. But now. I want to focus on this podcast and what I'm going to use it for. Because my initial ideas for the Nonbinary Writer was to have a place where I could discuss being queer as a writer, being non-binary as a writer, and how the kind of fusion fiction that I write is different from a lot of the other fiction that I see out there.

And I'm not alone in doing that. And I don't want anybody to think that I'm saying that I'm the only non-binary writer or the only writer who writes that kind of fiction. That's not what I'm saying at all. It's just that. I am often referred to as the non-binary writer or that non-binary writer, and I just thought I would claim it. Why not. I've been called worse things over the years, and it's a true descriptor of who and what I am and how my fiction works. That's what I want this episode to be about, and this podcast.

I'm embarking on a very different journey for me. I'm going to start working. Towards doing subscription writing. So what is subscription writing? I set up a page over on Ream stories, and there I am posting my old back catalog of books, as well as new books that I'm working on.

The first chapter is free. The next chapter for a lot of the back catalog is going to cost just a follow, which is also free. But the new stuff is going to be behind a paywall. For a little while, and that's where this gets really exciting.

You see what I'm going to be doing over there is posting drafts. Early, early drafts of my content, of the books that I'm working on, the stories that I'm writing that those who are interested in paying $5 a month will be able to comment on, then help shape and make better. We're just get early access to if they're really into the story or into the work that I'm doing. When those stories are done, they're going to be re-released to the public, and the cycle will continue.

And I'm really excited about this. The idea of being able to have this kind of a community is something that I've wanted for a really long time. But it's scary. It's really scary on a lot of different levels. One, sharing my drafts is kind of nightmare fuel. I do quite a bit of editing, and to let people see how things look as they pop out of my head is a bit terrifying. And furthermore to ask people to pay for that is also scary. And I don't know if this is a method that will work.

And that's what this podcast is turning into. Yeah, I'm going to be talking about my books and my fiction and the stories that I'm working on. But I'm also going to be talking about process and how things work. I'm going to be taking you through my ups and downs and all the lessons that I'm learning along the way. Because I don't think this is going to be a particular easy path. It's one that I'm excited for, but it has its pitfalls.

If a platform like Ream had been available 10 years ago, I can see an easy way to build this up. Social media, wasn't quite the nightmare. Hellscape that it is today, and building an audience wasn't as terribly hard. But now with all of the fracturing of society and everybody having to take sides on every issue. Whether or not, they actually have an opinion on that issue or not. It's a bit harder to do that. With the slow death of Twitter, now X, and the rise of competitors like Threads and Blue Sky, which he can find me on both of those I'm cedorsett on both, I'm hoping to find a new community. One that is interested in creativity, in writing, in sharing what we do together, in making something magical, together.

That's what I've always wanted. When I have done my podcasts in the past, like Myth Weaving, I wanted to teach what I had learned about writing, and I'm going to be doing some of that here, and who knows maybe even some of that over there. But more than anything, I want a place where we can just commiserate. About what we're doing. So this podcast is being hosted on sub stack. And you can find it@projectshadow.com.

There you'll be able to join into the comments and you'll be able to talk. And join in. With the discussion. And help us kind of shape. Where this future goes. Because I really do believe that we can. Get through the good place. If we all strive together to get there.

But this isn't a podcast just for other writers. I hope that if you are a writer, you'll get something out of it. And you'll learn from my triumphs and my mistakes. But this is a podcast for anyone who is interested in the journey of creativity, the ups, the downs, the pain, and the joy that make it all so worthwhile.

This is a podcast for everyone who has ever wanted to embrace their dreams, because writing has always been my dream.

The problem is I don't like writing novels. I know that sounds like a weird thing to say, but novels are so distant. I locked myself away and write, and write, and write, and then I put it out in the world . Yeah, I can see how many people buy it, but I don't really have that connection with those readers. Over the years, some of them have contacted me.

Some of them have come to conventions and we've talked about the work, but I've never really had that relationship with my audience that I would like to have. I'm writing the stories because I love these worlds. I love these genres. I love these characters. And I want to meet the people. Who also love these things like I do.

And so that's what I'm going to be doing here. I hope that you will join me on this path. I hope that you will be okay with all of the craziness of the writing project, and the process that leads to a completed work. It's not going to be pretty, but it's going to be an adventure, and after all, aren't we all looking for a little bit more adventure in our lives.

So, what am I going to be doing with this podcast? I'm going to say that it's a quasi daily. Podcast Monday through Friday. And I'm just going to share what I've been working on, what I've learned, what I'm doing. How different insights have changed the way that I'm looking at things.

That may seem like a lot, but, hopefully, it will be worth the adventure that we're going to go on together.

So what I mean, when I say semi-daily. I'm not committing to doing five episodes a week. I think that there's a good chance that will happen. I think there's a good chance that I might record multiple episodes in a day. Because I'll learn a little bit here, record something about it. I'll learn a little bit there and record something about it. And then schedule those on different days because sometimes putting too much information in one podcast episode is just overwhelming.

Sometimes there will be short. Sometimes there'll be longer. But they'll always be honest.

And that's my promise to you.

The word is the year this year is authenticity. And I find that so funny because the more I look around at the world, the more fake people I see.

Sure. There they're playing the role of authentic, but a lot of them really aren't. They know the right words to say they know the right way to get attention and, put things out.

They're living brands. And that's something I just can't be.

I'm neurodivergent and very queer, and so I don't quite see the world in the same way that they do. And so all of the things that seem to come naturally for them are things that I have to work for. Consistency and brand is not one of them. I have a lot of ideas, a lot of stories that I want to write. So I write space opera, epic fantasy, urban fantasy. I guess if it's a real genre of romantic fantasy or whatever, they're calling it is also something that I write.

But I want you. I to come along on this path with me. And I want to learn more about your interests and what you want me to be talking about on here. Because I don't want this just to be a self-serving journal of my experiences, and what I've been up to. There's going to be a lot of that and I make no apologies for it cause that's the reason and purpose for me making this podcast in the first place, somewhere where I can share all of the things that I'm learning, all of the things that I'm going through, and how they can change our lives and our careers. But I also want it to be useful for you. So if you have any questions, Please ask them.

Because I'm only going to talk about the things that I feel need to be talked about, and I published my first book in 2005. I've been doing online media for a really long time. So there are a lot of things that I might think are just common knowledge that aren't. If you have any questions. Just head over to project shadow.com. Ask them, and, I will answer them on the podcast.

Together, we can make this journey one of discovery and joy, because the one thing that we're lacking in this world, Is joy.

We are constantly bombarded by all of the terrible news that's going on around the world in a way that our ancestors couldn't have imagined. It's easy to feel that everything's hopeless when there's a financial benefit to keeping people terrified, afraid, and isolated from each other, so they just keep watching. In fact, the news, the 24 hour news network is the original doom scroll after all.

So this is going to be hopefully more of a respite from that. Not that I won't talk about the struggles or the hard times, but I don't want to get bogged down in the endless back and forth and back and forth that haunts our world today.

And who knows, there's a chance that I'll bring in some friends of mine and we'll have some group discussions about various topics along the way. Because I think that would be fun. And if you know anybody who'd like. It's a talk. Yeah, send them my way. Maybe we'll have them on. Because it can't always be my voice all of the time.

Yeah. That's my brief little introduction, or re-introduction to both me and my podcast. Hello, my name is Charlie. I write fiction under the name CE Dorsett you can find me over on Ream and here at projectshadow.com. You know, so find me on Blue Sky, Threads, and Instagram, @CEDorsett.

And I am here to write and tell my stories, and I hope that you're here to tell yours as well.

The Wall and the Long Slide down

Back in August, I hit the wall… was I working too much? No. Did I have unrealistic expectations about what I was capable of doing? No. It was simple: All my routines were interrupted. Too many things were happening in my personal life and I couldn’t regulate my emotions. Too many neurotypical expectations were placed on me in my personal life I couldn’t live up to.

Burnout crept into my life unnoticed, as I gradually stopped engaging in activities I loved, including sharing my writings. It wasn't the usual overextension; it was different this time. The world's tragedies, family complexities, and a wall of emotions left me feeling incapable of even the simplest tasks. My body ached, my mind was clouded with anxiety and fear, and I found myself at a loss.

The turning point came with the intensified negativity in fandom debates. Whether discussing movies or TV shows, every opinion seemed to spark conflict. I questioned the value of opinions in a space where purity, rather than genuine discussion, dominated. This toxicity, especially around topics of diversity and representation, drained me.

A notable example was my experience discussing 'Dune.' A beloved series from my childhood, the latest adaptation left me disappointed. It missed the core themes relevant to our times, focusing instead on a superficial narrative. My critique was met with accusations and misunderstandings, a pattern that repeated with other topics.

Every opinion I expressed was interpreted as an agenda. The backlash was personal and relentless. This pattern extended to various media discussions, where even well-loved reviewers missed the essence of stories, focusing on minor details instead of the larger narrative.

In a world grappling with serious issues like insurrection, gun violence, and attacks on the trans community, I struggled with the relevance of discussing art and stories. As societal focus shifted to survival, the joy and essence of living seemed to fade.

Am I better? Is that why I am writing this? No. I am not better. I am still having so many shutdowns and executive disfunction still.

So why am I writing this? Because writing refreshes and renews me and I have a deed desire to write at the moment.

I am still here.

So many of us are struggling right now, and late stage capitalism is beating us all down. The news doesn’t help, and don’t think I am get in the middle of any of it.

I hit the first wall in June.

This wall didn’t completely knock me out, but every moment of every day felt like marching through thick mud, but since August it has been almost impossible to do anything.

What am I doing about it?

Despite the overwhelming nature of our times, I realized the importance of small joys. Growing up in poverty taught me to find happiness in little things. It's crucial to remember to live, not just survive. We must find joy in the now, or risk losing ourselves to despair.

Over the last month, a friend taught me how to crochet and I have made a bunch of amigurumis. My two favorites are Bao from the Pixar short and a red bubble eyed fish. This has helped me regulate my emotions and start resetting, but life is still a struggle every day.

My plan was to use November to actually reset.

I chose to reject nihilism, focusing instead on making short-term changes for the better. It's about impacting our immediate world positively, rather than being consumed by long-term existential worries.

In the end, I've learned to appreciate the present. We can't wait for a perfect future; we must create joy and goodness now. This approach has rekindled my passion for life and creativity, helping me to start sharing my voice again.

On that note, I am bringing the podcast back!

It is hosted on Spotify for Podcasters here.

The first podcast episode back inspired this post.

My work might not change the world, but it's significant to me. It marks the moment I rediscovered my voice and purpose. I hope it resonates with some of you, reminding us all to find and cherish the joys in our lives. Thank you for joining me on this journey.

Noble Sacrifice: Chapter 11: Homecoming

More people arrived as the sun set. Ellis listened to Grey and a happier than he had ever seen him Peter talking about the natural history of unicorns.

A little while after sunset, River emerged from the shadows beyond the gate followed by a tall, muscular man who resembled him in some ways, but with long, flowing black hair.

Grey told them that was Dark Lord Michael Blackwood, River’s oldest brother.

The phrase dark Lord sent to chill through them. Any time they had ever seen that word in fiction, it meant trouble.

The two siblings parted ways just within the gate.

Michael walked over to Mother Soteria and greeted her with a gracious bow.

River walked straight over to Ellis. “Did you have a good day?” He asked, as if no one else stood around the table.

“I did. Grey took me to see the knuckers.” Ellis said, “Moriah studied magic, and Peter played with unicorns.”

River glanced at the ground and back up as if they were disappointed, then turned to Moriah. “I am surprised you chose to practice their magic before learning about the other kinds.”

“I didn’t.” Moriah said anxiously, “Sister Luna explained several kinds of magic to me. I haven’t chosen anything yet.”

River grinned. “Good. If there’s time, I will have to introduce you to my sister, she’s always complaining that no one shares her enthusiasm for the arts.”

“That would be wonderful.”

“Be careful with that.” Grey said. “Dark Lady Severina Blackwood likes her toys, but she tires of them quickly.”

“Are you calling Moriah a toy?” River asked.

“I thought we were all toys to your kind.”

Smoke seeped from the corners of River’s mouth. “Many like their games, but I assure you, she won’t lose a single drop of blood at the manor.”

“But what of her soul?” Grey hastily poured wassail into a glass and offered it to River.

River accepted and took a sip while keeping their eyes locked on Grey. “The sisters have outdone themselves.”

"Well, you know how much the fairies like to throw a party." Grey’s voice chilled the air.

Ellis missed something, but didn’t understand enough about this strange world to know what it was. “Grey said that there are dragons in the region.” They said to break the silence.

“Did he?” River asked, a pained expression on their face. “And what did he tell you about us?”

Ellis and Peter dropped their drinks.

“I see he didn’t tell you I was one.” River waved his hand, and the spilled wassail evaporated into a cloud.

“It wasn’t for me to say.” Grey said.

River smirked in a way that told Ellis there was a history between them that they needed to learn if they wanted to keep the peace.

“I hope you enjoyed your first day in Aernadael.” River said with a bow and walked away.

Ellis stepped closer to Grey to ask him what all that was about, but before they could, Mother Soteria took to the bandstand in her full habit. Dark black makeup surrounded her eyes and dripped down her cheeks in three wavy lines on each side.

She clapped her hands together, and thunder cracked.

All the conversations ended. Everyone turned to face her.

“Welcome to all our kith and kin who found the time to join us this evening.” Mother Soteria said. Her voice filled the space like she stood next to them. “It isn’t every day that we have the potential of welcoming some lost souls home, but tonight we have such an honor.” She gestured toward their table and a light shone around them with no apparent source. “Behold Peter, Moriah, and Ellis, three lost souls who found their way to the ara, and now have the opportunity to learn our ways if they so chose. Introduce yourself to them, but do that a bit later. Let’s open this fete right.”

The crowd cheered.

Mother raised her arms over her head, and a thick fog rose around her. Throwing her arms out to either side, the fog broke to reveal a drum kit, keyboard, two guitars, and a bass.

Voices sang out from behind the stage, chanting in a strange language. Five sisters marched out in procession from the fog, their voices melding into a heavenly chorus. One by one, they picked up an instrument.

When the chant ended, colored lights flared to life, and they started to play an oddly familiar song that Ellis was sure they’d never heard before. It was a rock or metal song from the ‘60s or ‘70s.

Mother Soteria sang with a powerful voice that reminded them of Grace Slick at the height of Jefferson Airplane.

Ellis, Peter, and Moriah turned from one to another, dumfounded by the sights and sounds before them.

The sisters performed with all the polish and prowess of rock stars. Maybe this was how nuns behaved in this world.

After the shock wore off, Ellis, Peter, and Moriah started dancing.

Grey offered a hand to Ellis, and they set off to the dance floor.

Ellis never had a hot guy ask them to dance before. They read nothing into it. Life was so different here. The last thing they wanted to do was to make more out of Grey’s gesture than he intended.

They all stopped and applauded at the end of the first song. Some whistled, others howled in approval.

As the next song started, River pressed through the crowd to them and asked Ellis for a dance.

Without a thought, Ellis joined River. They couldn’t help but repeat in their head, I am dancing with a dragon over and again.

After the applause ended after the second song, Peter and Moriah came over and they all danced together.

Grey danced on one side of Ellis, River on the other.

The music fill the air and cushioned their footfalls on the hard dance floor. Only the impacts that coincided with the beat of the song rang out.

Ellis danced between a wolf and a lion. They didn't believe that either would intentionally hurt them, but at the same time, their soul cried out for them to run.

Nothing in their life could ever have prepared them for something like this. So a dragon and someone who, at the very least, was a wizard wanted to dance with them, and there was no love lost between them. What should they do?

Like the brave and heroic person they felt they were in their heart, Ellis did everything they could to ignore the rivalry around them.

Fate, it seemed, didn't find that solution quite entertaining enough.

Mother Soteria began singing a slow song, not just any slow song, but a love song.

Ellis turned away from the stage as fast as they could, and wended through the crowd at between a run and a gallop.

They refilled their glass with wassail and drank deeply from the cup.

Their head swam by the time they reached the bottom of the cup. The beverage was alcoholic. All the exotic spices and fruits that steeped in it masked any sign of the intoxicant.

They weren't drunk, but they were definitely tipsy.

Brilliant, how were they supposed to not make a fool out of themselves in front of these people if they allow themself to get drunk at the party.

They shook their head and repeated the word, “no,” repeatedly as if it were in fact magic and would erase the alcohol from the bloodstream. It didn't, but they're probably were some magical way to become instantly sober.

Ellis searched the crowd for any sign of sister Lydia, but couldn't find her anywhere. If they possess more courage, they could simply ask one of the other sisters for help.

It should've been blatantly obvious that this was the sort of party that would serve alcohol. There were no children here. In fact, Ellis and their friends looked like they might be some of the youngest people in attendance.

What were they going to do?

Everything was so warm. Maybe it was too hot for their insecurities to stay up.

To their great relief, no one came over to talk to them until the song changed.

This one had a much quicker tempo, and an infectious groove that reached deep down within them and made them want to dance.

They forgot about their fears and concerns. Such things didn't belong on a dance floor.

The rhythm increased, and they've joined it, and its impetuous fit of motion. They allow their joy to move their arms and legs.

Nothing mattered, not a single little thing. It didn't matter what the headmaster wanted, they would be back.

They shook their head, that didn't make any sense. They graduated from school years ago. It didn't matter what anyone in charge thought. No one would take this life away from them, not now, not ever.

Ellis threw their glass at the high stone wall and reveled at the sight of it shattering. How dare they think they would fall for the same trick twice?

They shouted, "freedom!" And spiraled onto the dance floor.

Periodically, they reached out for a ghostly hand that never took theirs, but someone else would. They didn't care whose hand it was, so long as they weren't alone, when they were alone, that's when the darkness got them.

Their heart fluttered in their chest, and they saying all that was in the oohs and the ahh’s along with the crowd even though they didn’t know the songs themself.

It didn't matter, nothing mattered. Everything before this was a lie, a silly, deliberate, hateful lie.

Ellis laughed. They broke their chains. They were free. It didn't matter what anyone else said. They didn't need approval this time. When have they ever needed anyone's approval?

No one was going to take this life away from them. This life was theirs. They found it fair and square.

They danced under the moonlight, lost in the music finally amongst their own people.

Blinded Angels: Chapter 10: Grey Skies

Showers of light flicked from the wings of the knuckers as they danced through the air around and between Ellis and Grey. The ribbonlike trails of shimmering light wove from their wings. When two ribbons touched, light flared out like a miniaturized firework.

Ellis twirled on the spot like they hadn’t done since they were a child. Dizzy and lightheaded, they fell to the ground, laughing up at the blue sky. For the briefest moment, they could have sworn they saw the moon laughing with them. Not the man in the moon or even a face, but the moon itself laughed.

Grey ran over to Ellis and offered them a hand.

“It can be overwhelming the first time.” Grey said.

Ellis took his hand and pulled themself up to their feet. “They are wonderful. Do they feed off laughter?”

“Knuckers, like all dragons, feed off energy. So in a way, yes.”

“They are dragons?” Ellis eyes opened wide. Dragons existed. They'd heard the word earlier, but somehow it wasn't real. But seeing them with their own eyes they couldn't deny it.

“After a fashion.” Grey made a sort of nervous jig. “If you asked a dragon, they would tell you they were dragon like, but not dragons.”

“How many kinds of dragons are there?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

Ellis bit their lip, inhaled sharply, then asked, “So is that ghost Graycek related to you?”

“He is my great, great, great, uncle... something like that, and don’t let anyone else hear you call him a ghost. Especially not him. A ghost refuses to pass on. He is a Di Inferi, a god of the underworld.” Grey made a frustrated gesture. “He’s not really a god. Oh, how do I explain it? He swore to protect the community from the other side.”

“Like a patron saint?” Ellis asked.

“Something like that. Technically, he is a mane, one of the good dead, even though that is debatable for some.”

“Yeah, he has a weird sense of humor.”

“He does at that.”

"He said he wasn't given a choice about whether or not to come back."

Grey shuffled his feet for a moment. "The community was a lot smaller back then, and so there weren't that many to choose from. Perhaps from his point of view, he didn't."

Something large splashed in the lake.

Two large knuckers the size of horses, but with scales, claws, and dragonfly wings, flew into the air.

What did he mean they didn't have a lot to choose from? Does that mean Graycek had been sacrificed, or did they ask him shortly before he died?

Eventually, the site of the two adult knuckers pushed all the other thoughts out of their head.

“I wondered when their mom and dad would notice they left the nest.” Gray said. “Stand still until I introduce you. If you’re lucky, we might be able to go for a ride.”

Grey raised both his arms over his head and made a clicking sound with his tongue.

The large gold knucker came over first and rubbed his enormous head in Grey’s right hand. 

“This is the papa.” 

The white knucker followed and did the same with his left. 

“And this is the mama. Step closer slowly.” Gray said.

The knuckers made a deep rumbling sound like a cat purr, but it reverberated in Ellis’ chest like a deep bass. 

Ellis took a step forward. 

The gold knucker jerked his head from Grey’s hand and stared through Ellis.

“Keep coming.” Grey said. “He can feel your fear. So long as you don’t wish him harm, you’ll be fine.”

“I think I can manage that.” Ellis focused their mind on happy thoughts.

With every step, their heart fluttered. They reached up and stroked the knucker’s scaly cheek, smoother than silk and softer than plush.

The gold knucker nestled his face into Ellis’ palm, closed his eyes, and purred even harder.

Ellis’ whole body came alive with the sounds.

“Would you like to ride him?” Grey asked.

Ellis struggled not to fall over. “Could I?”

“Just ask, if it is all right, they will bend down for your to climb on. Just hold on tight if he agrees.”

Suppressing a squeal of excitement, Ellis took a deep, calming breath. “May I go for a ride?” Their voice cracked in the middle.

The gold knucker lowered itself.

Ellis swung on his back as if it were the most natural thing, like they had done it all their life. They wrapped their arms around his neck, and the knucker galloped forward before leaping up into the sky.

Nothing in their life could have prepared them for this moment. Like something from one of their childhood dreams, they rode on dragon back through the sky. The wind blowing around their face and through their hair, but they felt cradled and safe.

Maybe it was some unseen magic, but they sensed a cloud of pure joy around them, holding them firmly on the knucker’s back. They doubted they could fall off even if they tried, but they weren't about to test that theory. They knew their luck and didn't want to fall to their death in the middle of such a magical moment.

Their imagination had failed them. All the times they watched She-Ra and imagined what it would be like to fly on the back of a winged unicorn, they never dreamed it would feel like this.

Ellis discarded all their notions of time. Ever since they arrived at those statues, they completely lost their ability to tell one moment from an hour or vice versa. If it weren’t for the fact they would have noticed the setting and rising of the sun, they would have sworn they flew around for days before the knucker returned them to the shore of the river.

Grey landed next to them and dismounted from the white knucker. He hurried over to help Ellis off theirs.

“I hope that wasn’t too much for your first time out.” Grey said with a roguish grin.

“It was perfect.” 

Their eyes met. Ellis blushed and looked away quickly.

After what felt like an eternal silence, Grey asked, “Are you ready to go back to the sisters?”

Ellis wanted to say, “If we have to.” But said, “I should see how my friends are doing.”

Risking a glance at Grey’s chiseled face, Ellis smiled.

“If you like, we can come back tomorrow, or I can show you something else.”

So many thoughts rushed through Ellis’ mind. Their cheeks glow hot, ruby red. “I would love... like that.”

Why did they say love? Hopefully, they didn't draw too much attention to it.

Grey led them back up to the convent, which, under the bright light of day, resembled a medieval citadel from a movie. 

On the way back, Grey told him how he found the first knucker nest when he was a boy, and how he encouraged them and helped them flourish.

His enthusiasm was contagious. Not that Ellis needed any help to get excited about dragons. 

They grew up drawing them. Every time one appeared on He-man and the Masters of the Universe or any other show they watched, the rest of the world vanished and they took in every detail. Their parents encouraged it. They loved dragons and unicorns, and dragons were considered the more manly of the two, so they hoped it would lead them to more manly interests. It didn’t.

Luminous streamers flowed light rainbow rivers of light over the courtyard. They set tables and chairs up in front of a bandstand and a dance floor.

The sisters weren’t the only ones fluttering around, setting things up. More locals had come up to join in what the banner called a homecoming.

Tables filled with beautiful, red and white knotwork breads, and numerous dipping sauces lined one side of the courtyard. The other side had punch bowls, bottles, and kegs of every description set up with what resembled amethyst glasses to drink from.

Moriah ran up to Ellis and grabbed both their hands. “I got to see a real grimoire today and learned the proper names of dozens of kinds of magic.” She squeezed their hands and squeaked with excitement.

“I rode a dragon.” Ellis said as casually as they could manage.

Moriah’s eyes widened, then grinned at Ellis in a knowing way. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your new friend?”

Ellis’ cheeks burned again, and they introduced Moriah to Grey without looking at him.

They exchanged pleasantries.

“Are you staying for the festivities?” Moriah asked Grey keeping an eye on Ellis.

“Of course.” Grey sounding surprised by the question. “The sisters through the best fetes. I’ve never missed one unless I was sick or out of town.”

The idea of nuns throwing a party made little sense to Ellis, and they hoped it didn’t show. More than any other time in their life, they wanted not just to fit in here, but to be one of them, to have the natural ease they all had in life. What would such a carefree life be like? They worried they would soon wake up and discover this was all a dream.

As the sunset, it dawned on Ellis how long they’d ridden the knuckers. Their stomach growled, and grew only more insistent they eat as the sister grilled various spiced meats and vegetables for the, what did Grey call it, fete.

Grey took them over to a table and ladled something he called an autumn wassail into their cups.

Besides the apple and the cinnamon, Ellis didn’t know how to describe the taste other than to say happiness. It was like drinking the sensation of opening a surprise present and seeing something you always wanted under the paper and realizing how much the giver cared for you.

Peter joined them at the table. “Did you know they have unicorns?” He said, accepting a cup of wassail from Grey.

“American Unicorns, they are native to these lands, and not the smaller ones from Europe.” Grey said.

“There is more than one kind of unicorn?” Peter said, like a child seeing a toy store for the first time.

Grey nodded. “Remind me to take you to the stables sometime. I think you'll really enjoy seeing the menagerie that we have gathered together.”

Ellis smiled because they believed it was the right thing to do. They had never been to a party in their honor attended by so many people before, and they were afraid they would do the wrong thing.

Noble Sacrifice: Chapter 9: Down by the River

Ellis sat quietly for a while after Nana Thea left, eating their breakfast. Nothing here made any sense, but maybe that was just the cost of having magic in the world.

“What would you like to do first?” Lydia said as she put down her book.

Ellis squirmed in their seat. “I don’t know what’s possible.”

The door opened. A handsome young man with the same silver shimmer to his eyes as Nana walked in. “Mother is looking for you, Lydia.” 

His blue eyes pierced right through Ellis’ soul.

Ellis glanced away, their cheeks burning from embarrassment. They hoped they hadn't been staring.

“How?” Lydia almost grunted the word. “She told me to help... whatever. Cyril Graycek, this is Ellis Nicks, one of the trespassers caught last night. Keep an eye on them while I go find out what Mother wants.”

Ellis did their best to pretend her words didn’t embarrass them and forced a smile.

Cyril Graycek nodded with a grin. His short blond hair bounced with the motion. He trained his crystal blue eyes on Ellis and said, “So, are you ready for a tour?”

Ellis wilted a little as Lydia stormed out of the room. “Sure.”

“Good, and call me Grey, not Cyril or Cy. Unless you have something specific in mind, I could take you down to the lake to feed the knuckers.”

Why did everyone insist on saying things Ellis didn’t understand, like the words should make sense?

Ellis forced another smile, and said, “That sounds fun.”

“It sure beats carrying boxes around and setting up fairy lights.” Grey chuckled.

Ellis faked a laugh. They’d known people like Grey, and they were too pretty to bare anything less from those around them.

"If you're not interested, I'm sure I could think of something better." The graciousness with which Grey spoke took Ellis off guard.

"I'm sure whatever you want to do will be fine. Honestly, I don't know enough about what there is around here to even know what it is that I might want to see."

Grey chuckled. "I've often wondered what that would be like, to be a stranger in a new place. I've lived here all my life." He motioned towards the door. Was that a wink?

There is no way the stranger just winked at them.

“Follow me.” Grey said, and led them out of the tower.

Ellis stood up, and after reminding their legs how to walk, took a few tentative steps forward.

It wasn't like them to get flustered like this, but when was the last time that a handsome man offered to take them out and show them the sites?

Under the sunlight, his skin was far paler than it appeared in the room. His eyes sparkled, lending him a truly unearthly appearance.

They walked together through the courtyard. Grey waved at a couple of people and called out their names. They called back with a wave.

“To be honest,” He said after they passed far enough beyond the gate to not be easily overheard, “I’m glad you gave me an excuse to get away. I’m not a big fan of the attention they insist on paying me.”

Ellis couldn’t understand what that was like. People rarely paid them any attention if they didn’t want something or just to make fun of him.

“So, you are from the great beyond.” Grey said. “What’s it like out there?”

“The sisters paint a pretty accurate image.”

Grey frowned. “Oh. I hoped the stories were just that.”

“You’ve never left whatever this is?” Ellis asked.

“Nah. I mean, looking like I do, it would attract too much attention, and I don’t care what they say, I know there are still hunters out there.”

"Hunters?" Ellis asked.

“It hasn't been all that long, since you're kind, hunted mine down.” Grey kicked the ground after he said that. “Sorry about that. I hate all of this talk of different kinds of people. We are all born different, but that shouldn't separate us. It's just hard, because I grew up hearing the stories about the hunters.”

“I didn't think you meant anything bad by it.” Ellis said. “I can only imagine how some of the people I grew up with would react if they found out there was actual magic in the world.”

“Fear. At least that is how I have always had it explain to me. I understand why some people would be afraid of us, especially people like me, but we're not mad beasts looking to cause trouble.”

Ellis laughed. “Half the people I know make it their object in life to go about causing trouble.”

Was it inappropriate or rude to ask what it was about Grey and his people that scared others? As tired as they were being asked about their gender, they didn't want to ruin this outing by asking the wrong question.

“So, what would you like to know about us?” Grey asked as if he had read Ellis’ mind.

“I don't think you realize what a hard question that is.” Ellis allowed some of their frustration to show through. “Everything is different here, but somehow the same. How am I supposed to know what to ask about, but I don't even know what all there is to ask about?”

“Huh. I hadn't even considered that. How about if I just tell you what I think are the most important things for you to know.”

"Thank you."

“You are in Blackwood County, which is governed by the dark lords and ladies of the house of Blackwood. Uh, they're not kings or queens or anything like that. Wow, I've lived here my entire life and I don't even know how to describe it.” Grey laughed.

“You see what I'm talking about?”

“How about this, anytime you're curious or confused about something, don't be afraid to ask me about it? I have a thick skin, and it's really hard to offend me.”

Ellis raised an eyebrow. “Do you really have a thick skin?”

“Not particularly, I mean, if you cut me, I bleed, but that also might cause me to cut you back.”

Something in Grey's expression told Ellis that he was only half joking when he said that. They wanted to ask if he had ever killed anyone, but they didn't. One, because it felt like an overly personal question. Two, because they didn't really want to know the answer to it.

“Ok, so let's start with something simple. Do you have a job?” Ellis thought that was a simple way to manage introductions.

“I am the gamekeeper for the village, and for all the Trivian lands.”

“So, you're like a farmer or a cowboy?”

Grey blinked a couple times, then chuckled to himself. “I suppose, after a fashion, I make sure the wyverns don't cause too much trouble, and keep an eye on all the magical beasts that roam through the wild.”

Ellis stopped walking for a moment, and just stared at Grey. “You must be really brave to face down such legendary creatures.”

Grey shook his head. “Not really. Most creatures will only harm you if they perceive you as a threat.”

Ellis smirked at Grey. They've heard that kind of talk before. My dog’s not dangerous, he loves everybody. Three stitches later, Ellis learned their lesson.

What would it be like to be surrounded by all the creatures of myth and legend every day? For someone who grew up amongst them, it would probably be boring, no different from seeing a dog or cat. Funny, the little tricks the mind played.

Grey walked with a confident swagger Ellis had rarely seen outside of a movie. If they lived here, would they adopt a similar gate? Somehow, they doubted it.

The scent of autumn leaves merged with a wet fishiness.

Up ahead, a large lake opened up from the end of the trail. “Don’t come out here alone until you know you are ready.” Grey said. “There are a lot of hungry things hiding in those trees.”

“That you will protect me from?”

“Yep.” Grey stopped. "But I would rather not have to." 

The genuineness of his smile warmed Ellis's heart like the first rays of sunlight after a cold, dark night. Their heart fluttered.

“Wait here for a minute.” Grey said.

Grey walked down to the edge of the lake and kneeled down. He fluttered his hands on the surface. A deep moaning sound rippled from the center of the lake.

“Try not to make a sound.” Grey said softly and fluttered his hands on the surface again.

A spray of water erupted a few feet away from him, and seven large dragonflies spiraled into the air.

On closer inspection, they weren’t dragonflies, though they shared a similar silhouette. Each one had different colored fishlike scales in red, blue, green, gold, purple, fiery orange, silvery white. Each one was the size of a large house cat.

“These are knuckers.” He said softly, “Where is your mother today?” Grey asked the little dragons. “I suppose she is off feeding.” He stood up and stretched his arms out to the side. “Stand like I am.”

The knuckers swooped around his arms in elongated figure eights as he slowly turned around.

Ellis copied Grey’s pose and watched everything carefully. “Are they dangerous?”

“Like I said, only if you wish them harm. These are just babies, so they would probably just run away. I doubt there's anything they could do to hurt us.”

Grey turned slowly and faced Ellis. He made a trilling sound deep in his throat and the knuckers flew from his arms to Ellis and back in complicated patterns, each one taking a different path.

Their wings hummed from the speed and sent little jets of cool air around Ellis’ arms and neck that tickled.

They couldn’t stop themselves and laughed.

Showers of glitter fell from their wings as the little ones flew faster and faster in divergent figure eights.

The little creatures took more interest in them, and the sensation built with every pass. The harder they laughed, the more excited the little ones became.

If this was a dream, Ellis hoped they would never wake up, but nothing this wonderful ever happened to them in a dream.

Noble Sacrifice: Chapter 8: The Garden of Disbelief

Previous Chapter < TOC > Next Chapter

Eight years ago, Ellis sat cross-legged on their bed in their parent’s old apartment. They pulled their Ewoks’ sheets tightly around them, holding their Silverhawks Steelheart and Steelwill in their hand. Tears welled up in their eyes and they set them on the nightstand.

They crawled onto their knees in the center of their bed and wrapped their soft Masters of the Universe comforter around themself. Leaning on the windowsill, they wept softly. Pain tore their heart shooting veins of chilling pain through their chest. Anguish constricted their breath. Their soul crisped in the cold flames. They held themself up because if they collapsed into their bed they would shatter like an ancient vase. 

They rubbed their tears into their cheeks. Their breath became ragged, as sharp and broken as the shards of their heart worming through them. They raised themself up on their knees and pressed their forehead to the cool glass of the window. 

The lonely moon ruled the sky over the playground in the courtyard between the apartment buildings. On the bottom floor of the opposing building, light streamed through the blinds from one window stretching across the ground between the swings and the slide. Shadows played dark against the interior illumination. They recognized the outlines of Penny Scarr and Katey Emberson laughing.

Ellis met them shortly after moving to Frederick, Maryland, and they became fast friends. They always sat together at lunch as they trudged through the fifth grade together. 

Less than an hour ago, Ellis was in there with them, laughing and singing along to the New Kids on the Block. Then Penny’s mother told them it was time for them to go. Boys weren’t allowed to sleep over and they had to go home.

The words confused them. Of course, coed sleepovers were not allowed, but what did that have to do with them? 

Politely, they said goodbye and made their way home. Their parents said something when they entered the apartment, but they didn’t pay them much mind. They turned the idea over and over in their mind. Why did they have to leave the party? They were just one of the girls...

They turned their light off and hopped into bed. They weren’t a girl; they were a boy. Why had they forgotten that? It was the most obvious thing about them. They were the sissy who hung out with the girls, and the other boys at school ensured they never forgot that.

Sitting on their bed, they tried to make sense of that ridiculous idea. Everyone called them a boy, but they didn’t feel like one. Before their sisters moved out, they used to sneak into their room and try on their clothes. They imagined themself in high school dressed like their sisters, with their long purple hair teased up into a magnificent mane.

Their mother would never let them have purple hair, and the image wasn’t quite right.

One day their sister, Rhonda, caught them sitting at her vanity putting on her makeup. She laughed, wiped it off, then taught them how to put it on right. Isn’t that what sisters do?

Ellis dragged their eyes from the shadow play on Penny’s window and stared at the swing set. They moved in the late summer breeze like invisible children swung on them. Their sobs calmed, but the tears wouldn’t stop.

“Why does everyone see me as a boy?” They said under their breath. Then they remembered. Pain dug into them like a predator’s vicious claw. “If there is anyone out there listening, please, let me wake up a girl. Please. I will do anything. Just let me wake up a girl, anything other than this.”

Ellis started sobbing again. They cupped their hands over their hazel eyes as their body convulsed with tears. They couldn’t understand why people couldn’t see them for what they were.

A strange sound attracted their attention to the window.

Dark shadows loomed over the courtyard.

Something blocked out the moonlight and its shadow dimmed the bulbs in the light poles. 

It sounded like the beating of enormous wings.

Whatever it was hung black against the night sky, covering the stars. Ellis wanted to call out to it to take them away, but couldn’t bring themself to open their mouth.

Maybe someone or something heard their prayers and came for them.

Ellis allowed themself to imagine waking up in a different body. This one felt tight, like clothes they’d outgrown, but hadn’t had the chance to replace yet. A smile broke across their face that drove away their tears like the sun against the night.

What should they do? If they opened their window, they could call out to the shadow in the sky so it would know where they were. Or maybe this was one of those things they weren’t supposed to see or it wouldn’t come to them.

Unsure what to do, they laid down in the bed and threw the comforter over their face. They chanted the same refrain over and over in their head, “Please, let me wake up as someone else.” Every time they repeated it, they felt the same twinges of fear and hope. They didn’t know how they would explain to their parents that their little boy was a little girl now, but if they loved them like they claimed, then surely they would be all right with it.

They didn’t want to get their hopes up. After all, they had no reason to believe they would actually wake up any different from what they were now, but it was all they wanted. Then everything would be right with the world, and people might not mistake them for a boy all the time. No matter what their body looked like, they knew that was wrong.

Ellis opened their eyes. Puffy white clouds lazily wafted through the deep blue sky. Just last night, that strange person sat there debating their fate. Life was now stranger than their dreams.

A broad smile broke across their face. When had this last happened? A hazy fog lured them back to sleep in the preternaturally comfortable bed, but how could they sleep when such a strange world awaited them outside the room.

They reached under the blanket and checked the contours of their body. Nothing had changed. No matter how badly they desired it, will alone couldn’t reform their flesh. Years of experimentation proved this to them.

While they slept, someone laid out a set of clothes similar to what they wore the day before next to a cup of water with what resembled a metal microphone upside down in it, and a note.

The note read, “Sprinkle yourself with water from the aspergillum to bathe.”

Ellis pulled the aspergillum from the cup and shook it at themself like a rattle. A refreshing wave rippled over their body with each drop that hit them. After a couple of dips and shakes, they felt like they just stepped out of the shower.

Amazed. They stripped off their dirty clothes and repeated the sprinkling, then dressed in the fresh clothing.

If this was a sample of a life with magic, they were curious to see what else they would encounter here.

They opened the door carefully and looked around. No one guarded their door. Not wanting to wake up their friends if they still slept, they made their way downstairs like they were trying to sneak out of their parents’ apartment to go to a party.

At the base of the tower, they found the large room with tables and chairs set up. With everything that happened last night, they hadn’t realized that the dining hall, and the dorms were in the same building.

They ran their hand across the rough stones in the wall and tried to connect more with this place.

Sister Lydia sat at one of the tables reading a book in a language Ellis didn’t recognize. “Good morning.” She glanced over the top of the book and smiled. “I hope you are ready to have the scales fall from your eyes today.” 

Ellis muttered a few incoherent sounds that didn’t morph into words. How should they have responded to that? After a moment, they said. “I am ready to see what your world has to offer.”

“More for you than for your friends, I suspect.”

“Why? Do you know something I don’t?”

“I expect I know quite a few things you don’t.” She said with a disarming smile.

“I am sure that’s true.”

“What do you want for your breakfast?”

Ellis hadn’t thought about it, expecting just to be served whatever they were having. “French toast and sausage?”

For a moment, Ellis thought they saw the same black cat out of the corner of their eye they’d seen in their room last night, but it was a tiny plump person about knee high carrying a plate of French toast and country sausage to the table.

“Don’t bother waiting on the others,” Lydia said. “Moriah got up earlier and is touring the convent with Sister Luna. Peter is still sleeping and shows no sign he will get up soon.”

Ellis accepted the plate from the tiny being, thanked them and set it on the table. “What... Who was that?”

“Oh, that is one of the domovoy. They take care of the place. Think of them as house sprites. Every building has them, you just aren’t used to noticing them.”

Ellis nodded as if that was a perfectly natural conversation to have with breakfast. How many kinds of creatures were there? They had so many questions, but didn’t want to appear overly eager, so they kept them to themself.

While they ate what had to be the best French Toast they ever had, a little old lady entered the tower. Her blue-white curly hair sat like a pompom around her wizened face. She carried a mug of aromatic black coffee in both hands over to the table. After she took a seat, she turned to the side and watched the activity out the window.

“Are you planning a party?” Ellis asked.

The old lady turned around and answered with the tenderness of a grandmother, “It isn’t every day that lost sheep find their way home.”

“We don’t know if they are staying yet, Nana.” Lydia said.

“Nothing is ever certain, dear. That is why you have to celebrate every little thing you can.” The whites of her eyes sparkled silver in the light as if they were covered in glitter. “Mother Lilith danced as she was escorted from the garden, didn’t she?”

“And she sang.” Lydia said with a grin.

“Exactly, celebrate what you have and don’t mourn what you’ve lost. That’s one of the biggest differences between us and the wrecca.” Nana sipped her coffee and continued to watch the commotion outside as if she were about to give them a score.

“Who is mother Lilith?” Ellis asked.

“The first woman,” the old woman said. “Well, not really. She was the first woman in Yalda Bahuth’s garden. She refused to bow to the craftsman’s plans, and was expelled.”

“Ellis doesn’t know our stories, Nana.” Lydia said.

“Of course not.” The old woman smiled. “Everyone calls me Nana Thea. Welcome home, Ellis.”

Ellis blushed. “Thank you, Nana, but I’m not sure if this is my home yet.”

Nana giggled girlishly. “This wouldn’t be your home, sweet child. You are not a Trivian Sister, and I doubt you would want to be. I’m sure we can find you a home down by the river.”

“Ellis is here to learn about us and our ways, Nana.” Lydia said.

“It is a lot to learn in a short time.” Nana nodded as she spoke. “So let me tell you the one thing you need to know. Here, we are free. Yalda Bahuth has no power over us.”

“I’ve never heard of him.” Ellis said.

“Because he doesn’t want his minions to know him.” Nana said and turned to look back out of the window. “Long ago, the son of chaos desired to convince the world he was the only master who deserved to be followed. When no one paid him any mind, he planted a garden to grow himself a people who would. He kidnapped two children, one was our mother Lilith. She was wise beyond her years and refused to follow his tyrannical dictates.”

“Why didn’t he just kill her?” Ellis asked.

“He tried, but the four luminaries wouldn’t let him. They helped wise Lilith escape. They are the ones who drew you to us.”

Ellis glanced from Nana to Lydia. “We got lost in the woods.”

“Mother Soteria said you found your way to their shrine.” Lydia said.

It felt so long ago Ellis wandered out of their old life. “Those statues of the blindfolded angels?” They said as the world before Graycek came into focus.

Nana smiled at Ellis over her shoulder.

“But there were only three of them. The fourth lay on the ground in so much pain.” Ellis shook the image of the suffering angel from their head.

Nana nodded and returned her attention to the window. “Because Eleleth forsook his privilege to help Mother Lilith. If Yalda would have known what he started, he probably never would have done it.”

What did that mean? A luminary, whatever that was, forsook his privilege to help. All those words made sense individually, but together they posed more of a problem. 

Ellis didn’t want to impose by asking a thousand questions, so they limited themselves to just one. “So we are all the children of this, Lilith?” They asked.

Nana laughed. “No child. Her children are rare, but through us she taught the world the path to freedom.”

This was going to be harder to follow than they thought. Ellis promised themself that they would ask more questions in the future once they knew what ones they needed answered. “And what is the path to freedom?”

“Never bending a knee to anyone.”

The words came so simple and straightforward, but what did they mean? Ellis had never bent the knee to anyone that they could recall. Perhaps it was a metaphor that they didn't understand. The image provoked something in their mind.

Ellis sat back in their chair. The answer to all their questions couldn’t be as simple as that. Besides, how would anyone do that. People loved to lord their power over others. At least they did where they came from. Was it possible it was different here? People couldn’t be that different, could they? “Is that it? All I have to do is never bend a knee to anyone? If that’s true, what was all that drama last night about?”

“The simplest things are often the hardest to do.” Nana said. “The people in your world are obsessed with money and power. Always trying to get ahead of and above others. That is the path of Yalda Bahuth. That is why your kind were exiled.”

“And all I have to do is stop bowing?” Ellis said.

“It seems to me, you already have. I have never known an unbound who did, not a happy or long-lived one, anyway.” 

“People keep calling me that. I don’t understand.”

“Sister Lydia and I were born knowing who we are. You had to figure it out. You had to break every chain other people placed on you to keep you in one of their little boxes. You may not have broken all the way out, but you are no longer in bondage to their labels.”

Tears welled up in Ellis’ eyes. “How do you know that?”

“I can read you like a book, sweet child.” Nana stood up. “I should go to see if anyone needs me for anything. It was good to meet you, Ellis. Good luck with your quest.”

What did she mean by quest? That sounded like someone had told them what to do, or set up a series of obstacles for them to conquer, but they hadn't.

Everything was more complicated, and yet somehow simpler than it had been before.

If this was indeed a quest, they only hoped the reward was worth whatever the price was that they would have to pay.

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Chapter 8: The Garden of Disbelief

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Eight years ago, Ellis sat cross-legged on their bed in their parent’s old apartment. They pulled their Ewoks’ sheets tightly around them, holding their Silverhawks Steelheart and Steelwill in their hand. Tears welled up in their eyes and they set them on the nightstand.

They crawled onto their knees in the center of their bed and wrapped their soft Masters of the Universe comforter around themself. Leaning on the windowsill, they wept softly. Pain tore their heart shooting veins of chilling pain through their chest. Anguish constricted their breath. Their soul crisped in the cold flames. They held themself up because if they collapsed into their bed they would shatter like an ancient vase. 

They rubbed their tears into their cheeks. Their breath became ragged, as sharp and broken as the shards of their heart worming through them. They raised themself up on their knees and pressed their forehead to the cool glass of the window. 

The lonely moon ruled the sky over the playground in the courtyard between the apartment buildings. On the bottom floor of the opposing building, light streamed through the blinds from one window stretching across the ground between the swings and the slide. Shadows played dark against the interior illumination. They recognized the outlines of Penny Scarr and Katey Emberson laughing.

Ellis met them shortly after moving to Frederick, Maryland, and they became fast friends. They always sat together at lunch as they trudged through the fifth grade together. 

Less than an hour ago, Ellis was in there with them, laughing and singing along to the New Kids on the Block. Then Penny’s mother told them it was time for them to go. Boys weren’t allowed to sleep over and they had to go home.

The words confused them. Of course, coed sleepovers were not allowed, but what did that have to do with them? 

Politely, they said goodbye and made their way home. Their parents said something when they entered the apartment, but they didn’t pay them much mind. They turned the idea over and over in their mind. Why did they have to leave the party? They were just one of the girls...

They turned their light off and hopped into bed. They weren’t a girl; they were a boy. Why had they forgotten that? It was the most obvious thing about them. They were the sissy who hung out with the girls, and the other boys at school ensured they never forgot that.

Sitting on their bed, they tried to make sense of that ridiculous idea. Everyone called them a boy, but they didn’t feel like one. Before their sisters moved out, they used to sneak into their room and try on their clothes. They imagined themself in high school dressed like their sisters, with their long purple hair teased up into a magnificent mane.

Their mother would never let them have purple hair, and the image wasn’t quite right.

One day their sister, Rhonda, caught them sitting at her vanity putting on her makeup. She laughed, wiped it off, then taught them how to put it on right. Isn’t that what sisters do?

Ellis dragged their eyes from the shadow play on Penny’s window and stared at the swing set. They moved in the late summer breeze like invisible children swung on them. Their sobs calmed, but the tears wouldn’t stop.

“Why does everyone see me as a boy?” They said under their breath. Then they remembered. Pain dug into them like a predator’s vicious claw. “If there is anyone out there listening, please, let me wake up a girl. Please. I will do anything. Just let me wake up a girl, anything other than this.”

Ellis started sobbing again. They cupped their hands over their hazel eyes as their body convulsed with tears. They couldn’t understand why people couldn’t see them for what they were.

A strange sound attracted their attention to the window.

Dark shadows loomed over the courtyard.

Something blocked out the moonlight and its shadow dimmed the bulbs in the light poles. 

It sounded like the beating of enormous wings.

Whatever it was hung black against the night sky, covering the stars. Ellis wanted to call out to it to take them away, but couldn’t bring themself to open their mouth.

Maybe someone or something heard their prayers and came for them.

Ellis allowed themself to imagine waking up in a different body. This one felt tight, like clothes they’d outgrown, but hadn’t had the chance to replace yet. A smile broke across their face that drove away their tears like the sun against the night.

What should they do? If they opened their window, they could call out to the shadow in the sky so it would know where they were. Or maybe this was one of those things they weren’t supposed to see or it wouldn’t come to them.

Unsure what to do, they laid down in the bed and threw the comforter over their face. They chanted the same refrain over and over in their head, “Please, let me wake up as someone else.” Every time they repeated it, they felt the same twinges of fear and hope. They didn’t know how they would explain to their parents that their little boy was a little girl now, but if they loved them like they claimed, then surely they would be all right with it.

They didn’t want to get their hopes up. After all, they had no reason to believe they would actually wake up any different from what they were now, but it was all they wanted. Then everything would be right with the world, and people might not mistake them for a boy all the time. No matter what their body looked like, they knew that was wrong.

Ellis opened their eyes. Puffy white clouds lazily wafted through the deep blue sky. Just last night, that strange person sat there debating their fate. Life was now stranger than their dreams.

A broad smile broke across their face. When had this last happened? A hazy fog lured them back to sleep in the preternaturally comfortable bed, but how could they sleep when such a strange world awaited them outside the room.

They reached under the blanket and checked the contours of their body. Nothing had changed. No matter how badly they desired it, will alone couldn’t reform their flesh. Years of experimentation proved this to them.

While they slept, someone laid out a set of clothes similar to what they wore the day before next to a cup of water with what resembled a metal microphone upside down in it, and a note.

The note read, “Sprinkle yourself with water from the aspergillum to bathe.”

Ellis pulled the aspergillum from the cup and shook it at themself like a rattle. A refreshing wave rippled over their body with each drop that hit them. After a couple of dips and shakes, they felt like they just stepped out of the shower.

Amazed. They stripped off their dirty clothes and repeated the sprinkling, then dressed in the fresh clothing.

If this was a sample of a life with magic, they were curious to see what else they would encounter here.

They opened the door carefully and looked around. No one guarded their door. Not wanting to wake up their friends if they still slept, they made their way downstairs like they were trying to sneak out of their parents’ apartment to go to a party.

At the base of the tower, they found the large room with tables and chairs set up. With everything that happened last night, they hadn’t realized that the dining hall, and the dorms were in the same building.

They ran their hand across the rough stones in the wall and tried to connect more with this place.

Sister Lydia sat at one of the tables reading a book in a language Ellis didn’t recognize. “Good morning.” She glanced over the top of the book and smiled. “I hope you are ready to have the scales fall from your eyes today.” 

Ellis muttered a few incoherent sounds that didn’t morph into words. How should they have responded to that? After a moment, they said. “I am ready to see what your world has to offer.”

“More for you than for your friends, I suspect.”

“Why? Do you know something I don’t?”

“I expect I know quite a few things you don’t.” She said with a disarming smile.

“I am sure that’s true.”

“What do you want for your breakfast?”

Ellis hadn’t thought about it, expecting just to be served whatever they were having. “French toast and sausage?”

For a moment, Ellis thought they saw the same black cat out of the corner of their eye they’d seen in their room last night, but it was a tiny plump person about knee high carrying a plate of French toast and country sausage to the table.

“Don’t bother waiting on the others,” Lydia said. “Moriah got up earlier and is touring the convent with Sister Luna. Peter is still sleeping and shows no sign he will get up soon.”

Ellis accepted the plate from the tiny being, thanked them and set it on the table. “What... Who was that?”

“Oh, that is one of the domovoy. They take care of the place. Think of them as house sprites. Every building has them, you just aren’t used to noticing them.”

Ellis nodded as if that was a perfectly natural conversation to have with breakfast. How many kinds of creatures were there? They had so many questions, but didn’t want to appear overly eager, so they kept them to themself.

While they ate what had to be the best French Toast they ever had, a little old lady entered the tower. Her blue-white curly hair sat like a pompom around her wizened face. She carried a mug of aromatic black coffee in both hands over to the table. After she took a seat, she turned to the side and watched the activity out the window.

“Are you planning a party?” Ellis asked.

The old lady turned around and answered with the tenderness of a grandmother, “It isn’t every day that lost sheep find their way home.”

“We don’t know if they are staying yet, Nana.” Lydia said.

“Nothing is ever certain, dear. That is why you have to celebrate every little thing you can.” The whites of her eyes sparkled silver in the light as if they were covered in glitter. “Mother Lilith danced as she was escorted from the garden, didn’t she?”

“And she sang.” Lydia said with a grin.

“Exactly, celebrate what you have and don’t mourn what you’ve lost. That’s one of the biggest differences between us and the wrecca.” Nana sipped her coffee and continued to watch the commotion outside as if she were about to give them a score.

“Who is mother Lilith?” Ellis asked.

“The first woman,” the old woman said. “Well, not really. She was the first woman in Yalda Bahuth’s garden. She refused to bow to the craftsman’s plans, and was expelled.”

“Ellis doesn’t know our stories, Nana.” Lydia said.

“Of course not.” The old woman smiled. “Everyone calls me Nana Thea. Welcome home, Ellis.”

Ellis blushed. “Thank you, Nana, but I’m not sure if this is my home yet.”

Nana giggled girlishly. “This wouldn’t be your home, sweet child. You are not a Trivian Sister, and I doubt you would want to be. I’m sure we can find you a home down by the river.”

“Ellis is here to learn about us and our ways, Nana.” Lydia said.

“It is a lot to learn in a short time.” Nana nodded as she spoke. “So let me tell you the one thing you need to know. Here, we are free. Yalda Bahuth has no power over us.”

“I’ve never heard of him.” Ellis said.

“Because he doesn’t want his minions to know him.” Nana said and turned to look back out of the window. “Long ago, the son of chaos desired to convince the world he was the only master who deserved to be followed. When no one paid him any mind, he planted a garden to grow himself a people who would. He kidnapped two children, one was our mother Lilith. She was wise beyond her years and refused to follow his tyrannical dictates.”

“Why didn’t he just kill her?” Ellis asked.

“He tried, but the four luminaries wouldn’t let him. They helped wise Lilith escape. They are the ones who drew you to us.”

Ellis glanced from Nana to Lydia. “We got lost in the woods.”

“Mother Soteria said you found your way to their shrine.” Lydia said.

It felt so long ago Ellis wandered out of their old life. “Those statues of the blindfolded angels?” They said as the world before Graycek came into focus.

Nana smiled at Ellis over her shoulder.

“But there were only three of them. The fourth lay on the ground in so much pain.” Ellis shook the image of the suffering angel from their head.

Nana nodded and returned her attention to the window. “Because Eleleth forsook his privilege to help Mother Lilith. If Yalda would have known what he started, he probably never would have done it.”

What did that mean? A luminary, whatever that was, forsook his privilege to help. All those words made sense individually, but together they posed more of a problem. 

Ellis didn’t want to impose by asking a thousand questions, so they limited themselves to just one. “So we are all the children of this, Lilith?” They asked.

Nana laughed. “No child. Her children are rare, but through us she taught the world the path to freedom.”

This was going to be harder to follow than they thought. Ellis promised themself that they would ask more questions in the future once they knew what ones they needed answered. “And what is the path to freedom?”

“Never bending a knee to anyone.”

The words came so simple and straightforward, but what did they mean? Ellis had never bent the knee to anyone that they could recall. Perhaps it was a metaphor that they didn't understand. The image provoked something in their mind.

Ellis sat back in their chair. The answer to all their questions couldn’t be as simple as that. Besides, how would anyone do that. People loved to lord their power over others. At least they did where they came from. Was it possible it was different here? People couldn’t be that different, could they? “Is that it? All I have to do is never bend a knee to anyone? If that’s true, what was all that drama last night about?”

“The simplest things are often the hardest to do.” Nana said. “The people in your world are obsessed with money and power. Always trying to get ahead of and above others. That is the path of Yalda Bahuth. That is why your kind were exiled.”

“And all I have to do is stop bowing?” Ellis said.

“It seems to me, you already have. I have never known an unbound who did, not a happy or long-lived one, anyway.” 

“People keep calling me that. I don’t understand.”

“Sister Lydia and I were born knowing who we are. You had to figure it out. You had to break every chain other people placed on you to keep you in one of their little boxes. You may not have broken all the way out, but you are no longer in bondage to their labels.”

Tears welled up in Ellis’ eyes. “How do you know that?”

“I can read you like a book, sweet child.” Nana stood up. “I should go to see if anyone needs me for anything. It was good to meet you, Ellis. Good luck with your quest.”

What did she mean by quest? That sounded like someone had told them what to do, or set up a series of obstacles for them to conquer, but they hadn't.

Everything was more complicated, and yet somehow simpler than it had been before.

If this was indeed a quest, they only hoped the reward was worth whatever the price was that they would have to pay.

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